


Invictis

by Zip001



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 05:08:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7253722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zip001/pseuds/Zip001
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhaegar captures another Stark princess. A princess trapped in a tower. A rescue attempt by a Stark. Will the tragic past be repeated once again?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darth_invader](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darth_invader/gifts).



The Stark girl was crying. But instead of crying for her freedom or for herself, she was crying and pleading his King to spare her family. She would be good - she would give him what he desired. Arthur could not look when his King held her crying body in his arms, comforting her with words he knew were lies. His King would destroy anyone that try to take her from him. His King cleared his throat and nodded, and he stepped out and closed the door.

Closing his eyes, he tried to not think of her, the other Stark girl who was stolen, not think of her covered with blood and dying. Lyanna ran and was always captured - it was almost like a game between the two lovers. Lyanna was impulsive (she was the one who wooed Rhaegar) and wild, and Rhaegar wanted to tame her.

But this Stark girl, Sansa, was different. She saw her King's eyes swept over her family and then towards her little sister, who looked and acted like a mirror image of a young Lyanna, and she stepped in front of her sister, curtsying low and showcasing her lovely full bosom. Her lush beauty and her grace captivated the King, whose eyes remained trained on her throughout the evening.

He was not surprised when the King called on him to steal her and to later safeguard her, his most precious jewel. When Arthur came to her bed chamber that night, she was already packed and was writing letters to her family. She knew what was to come and was resigned to her fate.

His King would spend a week or two each month with her, complaining loudly that if he could get rid of the Queen, he could be with her every day. During his visits, she always graciously received him with open arms. She sang sweetly to him as his King played his harp.

Today was the first time he saw her cry. But instead of bemoaning her fate, trapped in a tower, she was crying for her foolish uncle, who Arthur captured as he tried to rescue her. He expected that the poor man would be executed. He hoped not by fire as King Rhaegar had not stopped his father's customary practice of corporal punishment by fire.

But he was surprised the next morn when his King quietly told him to let Benjen go with a letter from Lady Sansa and a final warning if he returned, he will be executed immediately. The King left to begin the preparation of the annullment his marriage (his wife was to be shipped back to Dorne) and the wedding of his Northern bride.

When Arthur released her uncle, he thought he never seen such a distraught man who seemed so torn between attacking him and his men and leaving at the written bequest of his niece.

Benjen was shaking with such anger and sadness, pointing at Arthur.

"My Sansa is worth more than thousands and thousands of your filthy King. He does not deserve her. And you, you are just his dog and no better than he, worse because you know that it is wrong. I curse him and you and all of your men!" he shouted. 

Arthur outfitted the man with a fine horse and provisions to last him for a quarter of his journey back North, but the Northern man knew that he did so in guilt. He even returned to Benjen his bag of gold coins.

Before he left, Benjen spoke quietly to Arthur to not be overheard by the others. He whispered, "You could save her, my Sansa. She deserves happiness." He tried to hand back the bag of coins. "Take her as far as you can and protect her."

Ashamed, he knew the man was right. This was wrong, worse even than what happened with Lyanna who was only slightly older than Lady Sansa. He knew that while Lady Sansa left her home on her accord, she was effectively forced to - she did not want any bloodshed. He tried to believe and pretend that she went willingly and truly welcomed the King's attentions like Lyanna did (at least initially). But he knew that she pretended, 'always so courteous and eager to please.' She fooled the others, the discrete hand maidens and the other loyal guards his King personally chose and assigned. He saw the slight stiffness in her body whenever the King was near - she did not and could not love the King. 

The Northern lady did not leave her room for two days and wasn't drinking or eating from the looks of the trays of uneaten food and drink. He knew if his King knew that, there would be dire consequences for them all.

Arthur knocked and when she did not answer, he opened her door which had no locks or bars. In the dark room with the curtains drawn shut, he saw her, so still and so sad and so broken. His King had finally broken her, her bright spirit.

"My lady, you needs to eat and at least drink."

Turning her back to him, she faced a wall.

"I am not a lady... I gave him what he truly wanted and I do not even know if it mattered naught... Were his words lies? I don't want to know... But I feel so stupid, such a stupid girl, to finally succumb..."

Arthur was shocked as he thought that the King had already forcibly taken her - it had been over six months since she was taken from her home. He could not imagine her strength and willpower to forestall what he thought was inevitable. Then he shook his head in shame for believing that yet doing naught.

"My lady, I give you my word and my honor that your uncle was released and received your letter. No harm was done to him."

She turned back and hissed, "Your words mean nothing to me. You have no honor!"

She continued more softly, "I just want this to end. I do not want his hands to touch me, his lips on mine, his cock breaking me asunder." She was shuddering.

Closing her eyes, she steeled herself to not cry. She did not want to appear weak in front of her enemies - she wanted to be fierce and brave like the direwolves on her House's sigil. Raising her head, she said quietly, "I will not eat or drink. You will have to force me."

As she spoke so bravely and so foolishly, he realized that his King was not the person and friend he once knew, at least not when it came to the Stark girls. He grew up with the King and would do almost anything for the man, but just not this, this destruction of such selfless and brave lady. In some ways, Sansa reminded him of his doomed sister who flung herself from a tower to her death. He could no longer close his eyes like he did with King's mother and the others the late King Aerys raped. It had to stop! 

He came close to her as she backed away, afraid what he would do. Yet she still raised her striking blue eyes defiantly at his eyes. He grabbed her hands raised to deflect him and pulled her towards him.

Knowing that there were eyes upon them, her guards and her hand maidens waiting outside the door, he growled loudly, "My lady, you must eat. The King wills it, and you must obey him." But he also whispered, "You need your strength if you want to truly escape."

Grabbing some bread, he quickly puts it in her shocked and open mouth. She began to chew and cry as he continued to force her to eat and drink, pouring some wine down her throat which spilled onto her low cut dress which clung to her. She struggled against him in vain as he held her in an almost death grip. Her maids were awaiting outside and hearing her struggle and cry, the youngest pled for him to let her feed the lady. Making a show for their audience, he pushed her towards the maids and barked that they need to make sure that she ate or he would inform the King. Her guards, the young men he trained himself, looked shocked at his cruel display. Once the ladies attended their lady prisoner, he closed the door and explained to the young guards that if she were to perish, they, pointed looking at them and nodding towards the door, would all be put to death by the order of the King - their King wanted no harm to come to her. The guards nodded, knowing that they needs to harden their heart to the gentle lady's tears.

When he left them, he had to think of where he could safely take her and how to disguise her and himself. 

He knew it was not wise but he wrote his King a letter explaining that he acted alone, pleading for the lives of the men and women there, and the reasons why he was forced to act, to break his vows to him, to betray his childhood friend and to do what he should have done for Lyanna. He wrote that he loved his King and that he was doing this to save him from himself, that he was a far better man and more just than his father, and that he could not forsake Queen Elia and needed to honor his vows of marriage for the sake of the Kingdom and for his grown children with Elia. At the end of the letter, he wrote of the Stark girl, how she refused to eat and drink and had to be forced to eat and drink. At the end of the letter, he asked whether the King even cared for Lady Sansa for if he did, he would not want her to suffer so. He wrote two copies of the letter, one he carries on his body while the original and a copy are to sent to Kingslanding, each carried by one of the only two ravens they have.

Arthur went to the stables and relieved the stable boys as he does every night so they could eat dinner with the rest. They had many fine horses that he thought that the boys lavished too much attention to, as their coats shone even at night. He kept four horses, his own mount, a gentle bay and a sturdy but fast horse, and an extra horse. He released the others to the outdoor rink that is connected to the side of the stables, making sure that the gate is left ajar. When one of the guards questioned his actions, he swiftly knocked the poor man out and placed his comatose body in an open stall. He outfitted his horse and hers with a few days of nonperishable food and water. The sturdy horse carried the bedrolls, blankets, extra weapons, and changes of clothing for both.

He knew if caught the King would burn him to death as his father did the same to Lyanna's father and oldest brother. He did not plan to be caught alive. Arthur left his white Kingsguard cloak on his bed, remembering all the vows he upheld for twenty one years. Wanting to believe that he did not truly break his vows, he said to himself over and over again in his mind that he was saving the King. But he knew that he was truly saving the young Northern lady and ultimately himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She is more wolf than he expected and he is more hot blooded than they both expected.

She was more wolf than he expected. He mistaken her Tully looks and Southron mannerisms for coquettishness and meekness that he found in most Southron ladies. 

She did not lie. She was a poor rider, the worst he had ever witnessed. They had to ride together, which caused so much strain to their horses, requiring so many breaks and much muffled cursing in Valerian from him. Arthur could not help it - he expected more horsemanship from her, the niece of famed horsewoman Lyanna, who rode as if she was born on a saddle. Even Elia, who was quite sickly, was a better rider. Sansa could not steer her docile horse, who was confused by her mixed signals of both left and right, and she could barely stay on.

After another long day, he could not help sighing in exasperation. He did not expect her head whip around and her snarling at him.

"I told you that I was a bad rider, and you put me on a horse," she hissed, "Just leave me some place - no one would dare touch me, not a single strand of my hair, for fear of the wrath of Rhaegar. I am known as the mistress of the Dragon King - he has commissioned so many songs of me, so that all know of their new Queen."

He felt shame heating up his face - rarely did any lady admonish him, with the exception of his mother and even that was rarely done. Looking sheepish and guilty, he started, "My lady, I apologize. I was frustrated about our lack of progress-"

"Stop it! Stop it with those false courtesies. We are going so bloody slowly that I thought we went back in time. Frankly, I am surprised that they have not caught up with us unless they overshot us, expecting that we would be further away," she cried in frustration.

There was something in their shared anger and glares that made him laugh, that a gentle lady was cursing, although it was quite mild. Except for her tears the two days before and now, he always saw acting serenely and with such grace even though they both knew of her distaste in the King. It was like the pot calling the kettle black. He could not control his smirk which she saw; and they are then both started laughing, her body shaking in his left arm as he held the reins with his right hand.

The sad thing was that she was not far from being wrong - they were only one day away although they started three days ago. The only reasons they were not caught yet were the false tracks of the horses he let loose. And he did not think his friend would expect him to head southward rather than northward to her home. But perhaps Rhaegar, his childhood friend, would know - he knew him so well.

It was getting dark and they needed to stop soon. Spotting a cave he knew was large enough for them and their horses, he raced to it, even though he heard her muffled grunts of pain as the horse they shared galloped hard. The other horses followed, connected by ropes to his horse. 

Jumping off the horse when he got close to the cave that was partially covered by moss and bushes, he whispered to his horse to take care of his rider, stay still and only run at his cue. 

Slowly removing his sword, he walked cautiously to the opening, listening for any sounds in the cave. He took a large handful of sticks and threw into the opening to see if any animals were flushed out or to hear any sounds of surprise. He heard and saw nothing, and he went in, seemingly swallowed by the mouth of the cave. 

Sitting nervously atop his war horse who obediently stood still, Sansa's mind was full of confusion and emotions. The type of man he was - she thought she knew and understood. Although more decorated and widely lauded throughout the kingdom, Arthur reminded her of Jory Cassel, the well-respected captain of her father's household guard whose loyalty was paramount. Even though she knew he may not agree with all of her father's decisions, Jory would always stand with her father, unquestioningly do what her father bid. And that was the way with Arthur and his King, maybe more so as everyone knew that they were raised together, that they loved each other and that the King only truly trusted the Sword of the Morning of all of his Kingsguards, the man who would, without hesitation, sacrifice his life for the King's, even without any vows. Yet Arthur betrayed his King; and she did not understand why. 

She thought that he was not attracted to her, unlike most men and boys she met (and even some women). Perhaps he was like some men who preferred men or boys. He barely looked at her and in fact, he showed more affection and kindness to the horses than her, looking at them with such warmth in his eyes in contrast to the indifference when he looked upon her. Or was that indifference disgust as he thought her a whore? She remembered his shock that the King finally fucked her - it was not that he did that act, which was shocking to her, but that he did not do so already. 

She remembered him stoically escorting her to his King and smoting poor Harwin, the guardsman in charge of the main gate, who valiantly tried to save her, tried to prevent them from taking her away from her home. In all of those months since she left home, Arthur zealously guarded her like a hawk, removing any handmaiden who grew too fond of her as well as any guard whose eyes lingered too long on her face and/or her body. He always stood outside, guarding the doors, as the King would pay court to her, gifting her with baubles and sweets, whispering his honeyed words and playing music on his harp to entice her to marry him even though he was already married and had two grown children. He was the last person she thought would try to rescue her.

Her uncle's words suddenly came to her - 'An unpredictable man is the most dangerous of all men.' Is this some sick game he and Rhaegar were playing? Do they share their women?

Frightened, she tried to make his horse run away, but it steadfastly ignored her hard tugs to the reins and her tiny feet spurring it forward. It was imperturbable like its master, whose only emotion seemed to be one of frustration at her poor horsemanship. A tiny voice in her mind reminded her that he also laughed at their predicament and at her fit, which she tried to shush and tried to forget how his face lit up as he laughed.

Finally, Arthur came back after checking the deep cave and brought in the horses with her still astride his horse. Huffing with irritation, she glared at him, and he glared right back. 

Once safely ensconced in the large cave, he put her down, not too gently and growled into her ear, "My horse is mine - you cannot steal him or ride him without me. If you run away, you will die, you foolish chit. You are lucky that he only listens to me." 

He immediately turned away and tended to the horses, brushing out the dirt and getting them water that was flowing on the cave. He took out some oats to feed them before he turned to her, standing awkwardly to the side.

"So what would you have me do with you then?" he snarled, reverting back to the angry man she was riding with the last few days. "I can't leave you here to die. I can't deposit you in a village or else I will die."

"I can survive on my own. My uncle taught me..."

When she mentioned her uncle in such glowing way, he was immediately enraged, snarling and glaring at her.

"Your uncle is not here. He got caught and was lucky to still be living. He is not much, barely able to hold his own against my most junior guard. I doubt very much you can survive out there in the woods - you can barely ride, much less walk in those ridiculous slippers."

Sansa was affronted. "You cannot speak of him that way - you had superiority in numbers. He survived many years in the North, ranging and protecting the North. You know nothing!" she hissed and pulled away from him as he tried to pull her towards him.

"This is not the North!"

With her soft and curvaceous body so tight against his, he felt something stirring, this burning desire, and embarrassingly, his cock stiffen painfully against her stomach. They were both breathing hard, hearts beating quickly. His anger melted to something even more dangerous for the both of them. He could not stop looking at her full lips, slightly apart. Would she taste as sweet as she looked?

Shaking his head, he pushed her away and watched her stumble as she looked at him in shock. Arthur could not believe that he acted in such a manner, without honor. This was a lady, a lady who was to wed a first son, who was raised to be a lady of a great keep. She was not for him. No! She was not Rhaegar's, but she was even less his to take and take hard at that. 

This was pure madness - was this what Rhaegar felt when he touched her? Was she some sort of witch, one of those children of the forest, or more like those sea sirens, those beautiful and mystical beings who seduce men and lead them to madness and doom?

Breathing heavily, Arthur rushed out to gather some wood to start a fire, trying hard to not think of her, not of the fire she started. He went further into the woods than he needed to, trying to quell the burning desires he felt, wanting to feel her soft body underneath his, to sink into her hot heat. With his forehead leaning against the rough bark of a tree, he had to relieve himself, yanking furiously and cursing her and himself for his weakness. 

Arthur had seen men after battle filled with battle rage sating their desires with any poor woman or even young boy they find alive (and in some cases, dead). He felt that same disgusting mad sickness when her soft body melded into his and that sick evil voice in his mind said that she is no longer pure, no one would know and she would never tell, adding to her shame.

He could not be weak, not like all of the other men, the men he looked down upon for being led by their cock. He would need to quell these dark thoughts in his mind.

Despite the slowness (of their crawl), she would sit on her own horse even if he had to tie her to the horse. Whether she sat in front (with her perky ass rubbing against him) or behind him (with her soft bosom pressed against his back), he knew that it would be torture. Arthur would have to be firm with her, forcing her to ride faster notwithstanding her pain. He did not want to be heartless but it would be infinitely worse otherwise.

Arthur had thought to ride to and hide out in his homeland with their hair being dyed pale blond so as to pass as siblings. But his feelings for her were far from brotherly unless he were a Targaryen. Now he had to change course - they would sail to the Free Cities. He mused that they would likely be run off from Lys as she would put to shame their pleasure ladies.

When he finally went back to the cave, he noticed that something was amiss. He did not hear her - her dress always swished about and he could always hear her breathing, no matter how softly. There were no tracks but for the horses (except his) but yet he had a sinking feeling she was gone. Fuck!

Running into the cave, his suspicions were realized as not only was she missing she took some supplies - dry food, water, and a bedroll. He did not know where to look - there were no tracks and he stupidly was gone too long. Depending on how fast she was, he had at least a one mile square radius to search for her.

Breathing slowly, Arthur tried to calm himself - he would lose precious time and energy if he ran around like a mad man. No tracks - she could not fly even though she was so light, barely heavier than his saddle. The only tracks were his and the horses. There were no signs of broken twigs or leaves other than where he and the horses went through. The clever lady must have followed him and stepped in his footsteps. Closing his eyes again, he hoped that she did not see him against the tree, moaning her name over and over. He was such a fool.

He raced back to where he came from. But once he reached the tree, there were no tracks or broken twigs. He turned slowly around, trying to see any clue where she was. As his eyes swept the area, his ears tried to pick up the sound of her soft footsteps in those pretty soft slippers or the sound of her sweet breath or the gentle swish of her dress, her plainest yet it could not hide her statuesque figure. Nothing. Only the sounds of his heavy breathing, fast heartbeat and the wind.

He knew it was stupid but he called for her, futilely hoping that she would return. These woods were dangerous with wolves and brigands. She would not survive long here no matter what Benjen taught her. It is one thing to learn and another to put such learning in practice. The truth was that he wanted her too.

"Please, my lady, come back. It is dangerous here. I do not want you to die. I am sorry. Please..." he cried.

And she softly dropped from the tree across from him, with a tiny dagger in her hand. 

"I want to go home."

"You know you cannot - he will only take you back."

"I heard of the hunts, how she ran and he always caught her with your aid. Is this what that was, a sick game you play? That you take me as far as you can so he can catch me?"

Her questions are like the accusations that Benjen spat at him. Arthur did not want to think of Lyanna, nor the role he played in her life and death. 

"I won't let him take you."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay in updating (writer's block which I tried to overcome by writing other tales). Hopefully, the next chapter will go more smoothly.

Everything seemed to change with his simple vow - "I won't let him take you." The tension between them seemed to dissipate as Sansa released the breath she was unconsciously holding. She put away the small dagger she held in her hand. While she did not fully understand his motivations for stealing her away (and frankly, she thought he seemed much conflicted too), Sansa knew that his vows were his word and that despite everything, she knew that he was a man of his words. In that way, Ser Arthur was similar to her father - she felt that although both did not lie, they may be holding something from her, or perhaps from themselves.

A large dark shadow flew above them, filling them both with dark foreboding, and they heard the faint sounds of horses and barking dogs. They were too far from their camp and his horse which refused to run away. She wanted to curse herself as her actions endangered them both - if she did not provoke him, they may have not been in this predicament. He grabbed the supplies she took from her and grabbed her hands. They raced towards the river - they may have a chance if they got into the water!

She sprinted behind him, losing a slipper, but she did not look back or slowed down even though the rocks and sticks cut her delicate foot. He grabbed her and dove into the river, holding her body atop his and letting the current take them further away. Arthur did not try to swim but floated on his back with her resting atop him. She was so cold as the freezing water made her shiver uncontrollably. Suddenly, Arthur started kicking furiously and stroked using one arm (as his other held her and the waterproof bag) to take them to the other side of the river. He dragged them further into the woods until he found a large bush that he pushed her under.

They were still too close to danger and could not build a fire. With an expressionless look in his face, he ordered her to remove her clothings as he turned around and removed his own wet clothings. If it were any other man, she would have been afraid. But Sansa knew that he was attempting to warm their bodies through their own body heat, a method used oft in the North to fight against hyperthermia. The Southerners would mock the Northerners when they saw the naked men hugging each other for warmth but the Northerners laughed last as they were the one who survived the cold night. She laid down as he curled his hard body around her soft body, his strong legs intertwined with hers and as his muscular arms holding her tightly right under her bare breasts with her back against his chest, as they both were still shivering from the cold. 

With her teeth clicking and her eyes trying to blink her tears, Sansa whispered, "I-I am s-sorry. I should have not run."

His body stiffened at her words as Arthur heard the regret and guilt in her voice. His hand moved to her face and gently wiped away her tears.

Slowly Arthur explained that by her fortuitous escape, they were able to get away as the King and his men saw many tracks but none of hers. They would have thought they rode (or at the least she rode) and would have followed the horses she let loose. King Rhaegar knew of his hiding place and undoubtedly was flying directly towards it, and if they remained there, they would have been discovered and that he would be burned alive.

Holding her tightly, he whispered his gratitude and that he was wrong... that her uncle taught her well in tracking and survival skills.

Looking up, she saw his serious violet eyes and realized that he was not mocking her. Arthur did not seem to be one who was free with his compliments, not even to the men he led - he would not compliment unless well deserved. Furthermore, this was an important and proud man. Most important men never admitted that they were wrong her septa told her; and yet he admitted that he was wrong. She was shocked speechless.

Arthur looked at her mouth agape and chuckled softly as his hands gently closed her open mouth shut. 

"This is rare misstep for me, but I have learned not to underestimate you. Be forewarned - you cannot escape me now." 

When his finger touched her lips, she felt a strange stirring, her face heated red as her hair. His arms seemed to shift higher, holding the underside of her breasts as her breath quickened.

"Relax, Red Wolf. We will need to rest if we are to survive."

It was difficult to relax as she was aware of every point her bare skin touched his, the hairs on his leg against her legs, the wiry hair on his chest against her back, his hard dick against her ass, and his arms and hands so close to her full breasts. Later his hands cupped her breasts when she thought he fell asleep. Her body felt like it was on fire and finally her eyes closed from sheer exhaustion. Before she slept, she swore that he kissed the back of her head and began caressing her. It must have been a dream...


	4. Chapter 4

Even after she fell asleep and stopped moving against him, Arthur could not sleep. He could not control his hands which instinctively cupped her breasts, nor his lips as he kissed her hair. He knew what he was doing was wrong. This woman was a gentle lady who was recently raped, for that was what it was, and by his King and under his watch, no less. She did not and could not welcome his touches - how could she when she was asleep? And even she did, which was extremely unlikely as he was rude and improper towards her, that could only be because she was in a state of emotional distress caused by his own actions in taking her from her family and home and her imprisonment and abuse at the hands of the King. He was the worst, the most wretched of creatures!

It was not the freezing cold or the fear of death that drove him to these actions. He faced far worst before, and he never acted that way. He even scorned the men who could not control their base and wicked urges by raping the poor commonfolk.

If Lady Sansa were his own sister, he would kill any man who touched her the way he just did. This must stop. This madness must stop.

Arthur removed his hands from her breasts and moved them to her tiny waist but he could not move away from her. If he did, they would both perish from the cold. Although it was the South, it was winter, and the water that flowed from the North were bone chilling frigid, the nights cold. It was torture, the sweetest torture to have her in his arms.

He thought of his vows. He thought of his honor. He thought of his proud family's name and how his actions would reflect poorly on House Dayne. He thought of his sister and how if she were alive, how disappointed and ashamed she would be of him. He thought of the sweet lady in front of him - she deserved a better man, a more honorable man than he.

And slowly he was able to sleep, exhausted from his swirling bitter thoughts towards himself. His last thought before his eyes closed - I will do better and will save her, even if to save her from himself.


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur awoke before her with a start. He dreamt that she was captured again by the Dragon and watched helplessly as she was ravaged. And he remembered her sad state in the Tower of Joy, when she refused to eat, when she sat in the dark, when she lost hope. He remembered her words. If there were no escape, could he give her the gift of mercy, a clean, quick death?

Shaking his head, he looked at her in the early dawn light. Sansa was glowing, her dewy skin seemed to shimmer in the sun's rays. And when he looked at her delicate feet, he gasped. One of her feet was torn, bloodied. The pretty fool did not tell him last night (but he thought that even if she did, he may not have listened, so intent he was to have her naked in his arms), and he worried that the wounds could get infected. Their clothes luckily dried but were almost frozen stiff. He tented the cloak over her as he looked for plants to tend to her wounds. 

His eyes were drawn to her sleeping body. Arthur had to stay focused - he had to keep her safe. She had to get new shoes. There was no way they could travel far if he had to carry her. They had to go to the nearest town. 

Gathering the roots that would clean and heal her wounds and the tree bark to dye her hair dark, Arthur decided to risk a small fire whose tiny wisps of smoke he contained to their "dwelling". He looked into the waterproof bag and nodded approvingly. She got the essentials - dried foods, a water skin, a pot, a bowl, a firestarter, change of clothing for herself, rope, etc.

He started a small pot of water that he used to clean some cloth and then to make the porridge. They needed to get their strength as the nearest village was a few days away on foot. As she laid sleeping, he washed her feet, waking her up.

"You should have told me." It was an accusation. 

"There was not time."

That was true. And it was not her fault. A lady's shoes were not meant for running through the woods. He was angry, but his anger was misplaced. If there were anyone he should be upset with, that person should start with his childhood friend and closely behind in terms of fault, himself.

"I do not want to fight with you."

And she stopped herself from retorting, but her head was held high, her chin and pert nose raised in defiance. She intently watched as he thoroughly applied the paste of what looked like a paste of mud and leaves onto the many cuts on her foot. Even though his gentle touches must hurt, she never cried but gritted her teeth. A Wolf she was, he would not mistake her again for a floppy Trout. His hand lingered on her delicate ankle that was marred by a deep scratch.

There was a pause when his eyes were drawn up her pale legs that were partially covered by a cloak. They knew she was naked underneath her cloak and that he could easily have his way with her. Her sharp nails and kicks would be no match against him. 

Disgusted in himself, he drew himself up and threw her change of clothes at her. Turning away, he poured some porridge in a bowl and began to quickly eat. Arthur would need his strength to carry her to the nearest village. Eating his fill, he poured the remainder in the bowl and handed it to her. Gathering their meager belongings back into the bag, he stamped out the small fire. And when Arthur turned to her, he wanted to laugh as she was eating the rough fare as if it were a delicacy she was eating, small tiny bites, in comparison to his downing the bowl of watery, half cooked oats, in a couple of swallows. He could not suppress a snort which was met by a glare, and he laughed at the ridiculousness of their situation, them with less than half of their supplies, no horses and her being unable to walk, and both at odds with each other. Sansa covered her face with her hands and giggled and confessed that it was the worst thing she ever tasted. Arthur had to smile when she adorably stuck out her tongue and grimacing. 

Grumbling good naturedly, Arthur finished the bowl, rinsed it, placed it in the bag, and strapped on the bag onto his body. Picking her up as she protested that she could walk, he began walking to the nearest village. He knew that he should dye her hair and his, but he could not think of ruining her beautiful hair and decided to have it covered with her cloak. Tired from their flight last night, she quickly fell asleep, her head resting against his chest.

He raced through the forest, imagining the hounds chasing then. Would Rhaegar think they floated further away or even perished in the river? Arthur did not know, but instead of letting the swirling fears of being caught and thoughts of her get to him, he focused on the destination. He had to remain focused. Arthur meant what he promised her - that he would not let Rhaegar take her again.


	6. Chapter 6

There was a calm he felt as he ran. With the lady fast asleep and motionless, he could pretend that he was a young squire again, training to build his stamina by running long distances while wearing heavy armor. They did not even stop for the mid day meal as he did not want to travel at night.

Before the sun dipped, Arthur felt her stirring, finally waking up. He would have to stop. They made good progress. 

As he made a quick shelter, Arthur had to hide his smile as he watched her hop about on her less scratched foot as she tried to find some wood for the fire. Nodding approvingly, Arthur had to admit that her uncle taught her well as she foraged barks and dead grass for tinder and dry tree branches for the kindling. There was something so stubborn in her in the way she neatly collected the wood even when he told her to please sit down. Her chin lifted high as she ignored him. This young lady reminded him of his old mentor, who would silently refuse any aid even when he was incapacitated.

Lady Sansa was precariously stretching as she tried to reach for a broken branch that was hanging precariously on a tree that he had to hold her waist otherwise she would have fallen on her pretty face. As he grabbed her, he felt her flinch, and there was a quick flash of fear that she quickly hid behind her proud mask. And yet he did immediately not let her go, but held her against his body even when he righted her.

"I can do it," she protested as he carried her and placed her in the shelter. Arthur easily pulled the dead branch from the tree and threw it onto her neat pile of kindling. He grinned when he heard her huffing in anger.

"Aye, and you would have fallen and cracked your head as you have destroyed your feet."

Flushed, the lady looked down and refrained from retorting angrily as that was not ladies do. But he knew that she was angry by her turning away from him and the stiffness of her back.

He made another small fire to boil the water he collected from the river - they were too close to danger. Tonight they would eat a cold meal - flat bread, dried meat and dried fruits. Even though she must be famished, she still delicately ate the food as if she was dining with the King. 

When the lady was awake, he could not keep his eyes off of her. His body was always aware of her location, that even when she left for a short distance to make water, his body automatically moved towards her, compelling him to follow her. 

As he stood close by, there was a feeling of shame when he heard her cry softly. It was not knightly his behavior towards her. He did not treat her as a fine lady she was. Arthur belittled her, angered and scared her so much that she ran away, and could barely protect her. He thought of her tattered foot and scratches on her legs, of how exhausted she was as they ran from danger. It was such a blow to him when he had to admit that he himself was a danger to her. Every tear she wept, he felt more guilty.

When she returned, wiping away her tears and wearing her stoic mask, back to their camp, he did not follow her back but instead gathered more plants that could help heal her physical wounds. He was reluctant to see her and be reminded of his failings. The moon was high, making it easy for him to find what he needed to supplement what he gathered in the morn. When he came back to camp, the fire was snuffed out by dirt. Hiding behind a tree, Sansa looked at him in alarm and pointed to a nearby light. Shaking his head, Arthur knew that he had to stay focused - they were lucky that his lack of focus did not get them caught.

Arthur motioned her to climb up the tree as he got closer to the light. It was a small run-down house. No matter how meager the dwelling it would be better than in their sad camp. He saw their sad animals, thin and ragged, but better than their dried meats and horrid oatmeal porridge. As Arthur weighed their options, he knew that if they stopped by, the occupants would like die, either by his own hands, if he thought they were dangers, or by his king's hands. Their situation was naught too dire yet. But then he saw the light go out in the house and a young reedy man rushed out with a poorly made sword. It would be easy to cut him down but then he heard a small child cry and a woman making shushing sounds.

It stilled his hand that was grasping his sword. And before he could move again, he saw a flash of red run between them. Sansa was too close to that man and too far from him. Her hands were raised in supplication as if he were a mere brigand, not a knight. She was begging for mercy for this man and his family. It was then he could understand why his King granted her uncle mercy.

The young man's eyes were huge with surprise as he realized who she was, the famed red haired winter princess, soon to be their new beautiful queen. It would be better if he cut the man down but he could not, especially not in front of her accusing eyes. With a glance at Arthur's armor, he also knew that he was soon to be a dead man, notwithstanding any entreaties of the gentle winter rose.

Snarling in frustration, Arthur barked, "Step back, away from the lady and drop your weapon." It was clear that the man's life was at stake if he did not obey. His cold voice silenced his lady who looked at him disbelievingly.

The poor man dropped the weapon and backed slowly towards his house. He begged for mercy, for the lives of his wife and their young daughter. Arthur grabbed and pushed the man and dragged Sansa into the dark house. 

The man's thin wife was in a corner and held knife with shaking hands. The crying toddler was behind her.

"Tell your woman to drop her knife." 

Immediately, even before her husband spoke, she dropped the weapon and stepped back, trying to shield her crying child with her body. The man rushed in front of his family.

Arthur stared at the huddling and crying family and tried to ignore her, his lady, who was now glaring at him. It would be the smart thing to kill the family. He glenched his fist over his pommel and as he moved to unsheath it, he heard her gasp.

"Keep quiet," he barked.

"You are scaring them," she quietly spoke as she gingerly moved closer to the crying family. 

Arthur yanked her back to him. He fiercely whispered that they knew their identities and had to be silenced. Instead of her acquiescing, she hissed back even angrier, "So we kill everyone we meet? How are you any better than He?"

Arthur loved Rhaegar, but not the monster he was with his lady. He never thought to think he himself was better than Rhaegar, not even when they grew up together. He knew his position and he loved Rhaegar so much that he must have blinded himself to not see his dark side, his obsession with the Stark girls. Shaking his head, trying to clear his senses that were muddled by her closeness and clear his mind that could not think of an appropriate response, he stepped back and let her go. Sansa hopped gingerly towards the family and somehow calmed them, whispering softly, and their loud sobbing was quieted.

"We will sleep tonight and then tomorrow we will leave." In the morn, he would see more clearly. He was so tired.

Arthur pulled her off from the family and gagged and tied the sitting adults to a pole, tying each their arms together and their feet together so that they faced opposite directions. Sansa stopped him before he hog-tied the child. She placed the child in front of her mother. Removing her cloak, she made a small bed for the scared child.

"Don't talk to them, do not tell them anything. What you think is kindness could be the difference between freedom and being caught." He spoke to her in high Valarian, knowing that they would not understand his words. He gave her a meaningful glance and waited until she nodded. She was a Stark, Lord Stark's eldest daughter - she would not lie, their words were their honor. 

Arthur left to bring back their meager belongings. And when he quickly returned, Arthur saw her huddled in a corner, asleep, while the scared family stared at him. It would be a long night.

Carrying her easily, Arthur climbed into the sleeping loft and placed her against the wall as he laid down next to her on one side and with the swords on the other. He placed a dagger under his pillow. It would be so easy to slit their throats but he could not bear to see her blue eyes if he did. She did not understand that he was offering them mercy unlike what his King would do. Rhaegar explained to him why his father did such gruesome acts, that he wanted to make sure that all feared him. And he continued the same practice of burning his enemies because he did not want to be appear weak although unlike his father, the King rewarded his allies.

Right before sleep fully overtook him, Arthur felt her arm reach out to him, as if to hold and comfort him. He melted into her arms.


	7. Chapter 7

There was something so soft and silky on his skin. Arthur nuzzled and he heard a purring sound. He opened his eyes with a start. She was all over him, her hair escaped her braids and flowed everywhere, her arms and long legs flung over him. But he was also embracing her, his face buried in her pale neck.

He looked down and saw the young couple still bound. Arthur groaned as he was no closer in deciding what to do. He remembered seeing how ragged the man looked, all skin and bones; and his wife and child looked no better, pale and skeletal. They had little, naught enough for themselves, much less to "share" with them. Had he fallen so low to take from them? Arthur remembered when they were young and so idealistic, Rhaegar and he would talk about what they could do to better the lives of the commonfolk. 

Arthur tried to gently move her off of him but her eyes fluttered open. At seeing their intimate position, Sansa blushed prettily, almost as red as her hair. Then she also looked down and her face hardened. She moved away, and he grasped her hand.

Arthur had to explain his actions, that the man came out to attack him. Yet before he voiced those excuses, he stopped as he realized how inane it sounded, that a knight was taken surprise by a scrawny peasant and was threatened by his poorly made blade.

Before he could say anything, Sansa whispered that she rushed out when she saw the man charging towards him. She did not want any more blood shed. And he remembered now that glint he saw in her hands - was she trying to protect him?

She fell silent. Her eyes looked sad as she already knew and understood his decision.

They had a few options, none good. They could knock the family out and leave, hoping for the best, but it was clear where they were heading, towards the nearby town. Arthur knew that Rhaegar's men would soon come upon this tiny homestead and that the family would not only perish but die in a painful manner. Even without her beside him, Arthur could not bring himself to execute the family - if he killed the child's parents, the child, who looked a little like a younger version of Sansa's dark haired sister, would die and suffer. He was not a monster. The only hope for the family to live were if they came with them but he could not trust a man who tried to kill him, even if he understood the man's brash actions. And the child would slow them down. 

But the more he thought about it, they could be useful, as they more easily than he or his lady could blend in and enter the town without notice. They could get the supplies and the medicines she needed for her feet. Even if he dyed their hair, their fine appearance and mannerisms would stick out. Traveling with them could make sense as it was common for lords and ladies to travel with a few of their servants.

"They would come with us."


End file.
